daybreak

by Sjón

birting
daybreak

long to morning, even longer to daybreak
when the man jerks awake
to the call of a moorbird

it’s January
he lives downtown
in a flat facing a garden, inlaid with flagstone

the man rises to his feet
walks quietly between rooms
until convinced he’s awake

in the kitchen, he pours himself a glass of milk
sits at the table, the glass in his right hand

he listens to his own breath
until he can’t make it out anymore 

Translated by Meg Matich.